Departures

Seat 38J, Flight EK 015, Dubai - London Gatwick

We are currently 28.5 hours into a 33-hour journey back from Christchurch. I am tired. An excitable infant is screeching somewhere away to my left. I have exhausted the supply of watchable movies and old Top Gear episodes on the in-flight entertainment system so thought I'd take the opportunity to scribble some concluding thoughts. I have decided to do this in the form of a series of not-quite-random memories and accolades jotted down in no particular order. I thought about doing this with the aid of the diaries I have kept but have decided that those memories that spring most easily to mind are probably the most worthwhile anyway, so here goes:

• Turning the corner into Delhi's Main Bazaar an hour after landing on our first day in India to see a seething mass of humanity, motorcycles, dust and rotting vegetables, and wondering if this was such a good idea.
• Best beer - Tui (New Zealand)
• Trying to catch the sleeper train from Agra to Jaipur, squeezing into an approximately coffin-sized berth, realising we were on the wrong train, giving up on our actual train once it was more than five hours late, heading back into the city and finding a hotel room around midnight.
• Best hotel - Hotel Siddartha, Agra, India
• Cycling from Siem Reap (Cambodia) into the ancient city of Angkor and around its remarkable temples in sweltering heat on decrepit but loveable bicycles.
• Distance travelled - 32315 miles
• Days away from England - 129
• Walking along the beach in Arambol, Goa.
• Best beach - Booti Booti, nr Wingham, New South Wales
• Tweedie knocking an old Vietnamese man off his motorcycle almost as soon as we landed in Hanoi, and moments later the smiles on the faces of everyone involved.
• Best country - Vietnam
• Gawping at glaciers, mountains, lakes and the like in New Zealand.
• Best breakfast - bagels at Café Stir, Christchurch
• A longtail boat trip through Bangkok's canal network, lined with riverside shacks and decks.
• Song - a Bangkok busker's interpretation of Radiohead's 'Creep', with enthusiastic "whoop"s inbetween chorus lines
• Album - Is This It? The Strokes
• Escaping the hordes of infant salesmen for the tranquil spleandour of the ancient palace at Fatehpur Sikri
• Best lunch - 'Two-Steak Tuesday' at a forgotten pub on our first day in Sydney
• Climbing a very steep hill in Pushkar and sipping a well-earned mango juice at the summit, only to feel rather less proud on the way down when passing elderly Indian women in barefeet comfortably completing the same ascent.
• Most attractive women - Vietnam
• Most attractive men -New Zealand
• Hopping into a tiny fishing boat in Hoi An where an even tinier old Vietnamese lady had agreed to take us up and down the ruver, only for her to hand me the paddle and roll an enormous reefer.
• Longest bus journey - Hoi An to Ho Chi Minh City, 25 hours
• Longest train journey - Kota to Thivim, 25.5 hours
• Going on an irrelevantly unsuccessful fishing trip with our new Australian friends Paul and Gillian on their friends Ross and Helen's boat on an otherwise empty lake near Yamba.
• Best dinner - Tandoori Pomfret on the beach in Anjuna, Goa
• Going tandem kayaking in Ha Long Bay: amazingly clear and still water, a unique landscape and the opportunity to splash Tweedie.
• Best film - Invictus
• Best book - Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel
• Top Ten Places We Visited (in chronological order): Delhi, Pushkar, Jodhpur, Panjim, Arambol (India), Hanoi, Ha Long Bay, Hoi An (Vietnam), Siem Reap (Cambodia), Yamba (Australia)

The screen says we are ssomewhere over eastern Europe. The end is truly nigh. Thanks to Tweedie for coming with me, and for not yet running away with a dashing Indian, trendy Vietnamese or a burly Kiwi. Thanks to my Aunt Joan, without whom none of it would have happened and to whom I am forever indebted. And thanks to you, whoever you are, for taking time out of your day to read this and other such self-indulgent wafflings. I look forward to seeing you soon.

• Autocomplete option #1 if you type "nap year" into Google - "nap year diaries"
• Number of followers of 'Nap Year Diaries' - 7

For the last time,

Over.

Come on England

Hotel Off the Square, Christchurch

In truth there isn't a lot to tell of our last few days in Christchurch but I said I'd write another one while I was here and I've got half an hour to kill. Keen not to leave with the campervan memory souring everything we have spent our last two nights in a hotel which has been a pleasure.

It has been raining most of the time, so we've mooched about a few markets , been to the cinema and the cathedral and seen three generations of a half-Maori family perform a rendition of the Haka at the Christchurch art gallery. The All Blacks are a bit more frightening. At one of the afore-mentioned markets I purchased a fake but not terrible England shirt, ready for kick-off, from a Scotsman. Recognising his accent I asked if he would be supporting the Auld Enemy in South Africa. Irritated, he replied in the negative and with a glint of delight in his eye asked me if I'd heard about Ferdinand's injury on the radio that morning. I had not, so hurried off to check BBC Sport before I could deliver my knockout "at least we qualified" blow. For the record, he said he'd support New Zealand, and after that "anyone but England". Bless.

Today is our last day in New Zealand. I admit to being a touch disappointed by the experience we have had here. Everyone who has ever spoken to me about New Zealand has raved about it, and to an extent I can see why. If one were to come here in season, with reasonable weather, and make a sensible decision on accommodation then the range of things one can see and do is phenomenal, and we've only seen the South Island. And although some of these elements have not been present, parts of our three-week stay have been tremendous and I don't regret coming at all. Having said that, it is possibly the country in which I have had the least good time of those we've seen, and certainly the one I am least likely to revisit.

I do not recommend a campervan, or anything similar, as a holiday option.

Told you there wasn't much to tell. I'll do one more when we get back.

Over.

Things to do before you die

Dub Dub Dub Internet Café, Christchurch

After dinner that evening we went to the casino in Queenstown where my second bet on the roulette spin came up trumps (twelve) and in my excitement I took my winnings off the table before it was allowed, leading to a frightening level of consternation and condescension from the croupier and his manager who was immediately called out to interrogate me on how I could have forgotten this basic rule of casinos. I offered the best I could do at the time - "I just forgot" - collected my winnings and departed $70 richer but feeling rather poorer in stature and with a growing feeling that, after the 111kg episode, New Zealand was having more fun than I was at my expense.

The next day, keen to do at least something exhilerating with our days in the adventure capital of the world, we steamed back into the information office ready to go paragliding, having carefully read all small print for relevant weight restrictions which were thankfully sufficiently liberal. I had the cash in my hand ready to hand over as the lady phoned the office to make the booking only to hear her repeat the words "wind blowing in the wrong direction" and immediately understand that me and extreme sports are a marriage made in hell and the universe is clearly conspiring to keep us apart for both our sakes. This suspicion was confirmed when we next took the gondola ride to the top of the mountain and did a thing they call a 'luge' ride, except instead of sliding down on your stomach you sit on it like a go kart. Unbeknown to me, they are not designed for people of 6'2" in height (on the contrary, this is an activity clearly designed for kids, but since we weren't allowed to do anything grown-up it seemed worth trying) and my scrunched-up legs prevented the brakes working properly until I let them dangle rather ridiculously out of the sides in a less-than-streamline fashion which prevented any great velocity being achieved. Obscenely fat and freakishly tall - what a lucky lady Tweedie is.

The day after this we left Queenstown, a town I feel I liked more than it liked me, and headed north and inland to Mount Cook, where we did a walk through the snow almost up to the foot of the mountain - the tallest in Australasia - before deeming it too cold and too icy to be worth the effort in our less-than-thermal running shoes/converse. In the afternoon we went on to Tekapo, the drive to which along Lake Pukaki and then Lake Tekapo itself was the most spectacular hour of scenery I have seen in my life. The view from top to bottom went something like - blue sky, heavy snow-topped peak, low-lying cloud, mountain-side lightly dusted with snow, valley village, crystal-blue lake, grass, shoes - all of which looked better than it sounds when I read this back.

Anyway, we arrived in Tekapo where we spent the next two nights in a park overlooking the lake. During this time we walked to the top of the very steep Mount John (an hour up and 20 minutes down, although the latter was more precarious in the snow and ice) and elsewhere inspected what was sold to us at the local information centre as "one of the most photographed spots in New Zealand" which turned out to be a statue of a border collie next to a "historic" (1930s - Kiwis have a similarly limited sense of the scope of history to the Australians) church. Even in static form the dog was a little frightening.

From there to a town called Geraldine to visit a wool shop which boasted both a giant knitted jersey on the wall (it was indeed giant) and a recreation of the Bayeux Tapestry made out of painted bits of old sewing machine. As we stared in bemusement at this bizarre creation a woman in a Christmas-cracker cardigan appeared at our shoulder to announce "it took my husband (also wearing an absurd jumper - not a good advertisement for their product) 25 years to complete". Every fibre in my body wanted to ask "why?" but diplomacy and the thought of an irate woman wielding a knitting needle prevented me.

After this brief and somewhat surreal interval we proceeded north and east, all the way to the coast in fact, arriving at Akaroa on the Banks Peninsular on Wednesday afternoon. The highlight of our two nights here, in fact the only thing of real note we did, was swimming with dolphins yesterday. After donning an enormous dry suit over normal clothes and a 20-minute catamaran ride out into the Pacific we sighted some dolphins and were basically told to jump in. Tweedie didn't particularly enjoy the choppiness of the ocean waves, and opted to climb back aboard ship after half an hour or so, just before a pair of dolphins swam just a couple of metres past me which was very cool. Seeing the big blubbery mammal up close and personal was a bit of a shock, but the dolphins seemed to adjust relatively quickly.

This morning we drove from Akaroa back inland a touch to Christchurch, our final destination. We will spend the next four nights here, partly because we slightly misjudged the length of our trip at other stages, and partly because we are both keen to come home and being here, close to the airport from which we will depart on Tuesday, feels like a step closer to leaving. I should stress that this doesn't mean we're having a terrible time, rather that we are looking forward to returning to home comforts and the company of friends and family. Something like that anyway.

The end is nigh, but not quite yet. I'll do one more post from New Zealand, and then hopefully one more back in Blighty, depending on whether I can stay awake long enough after landing to write it.

Over.

One hundred and eleven kilograms

Global Gossip, Queenstown

The following day we did a boat/walk/boat trip up the shoreline of and through Abel Tasman National Park, seeing penguins and seals along the way. It rained the entire time.

Later that day we met a representative of Backpacker Campervans Ltd who brought us a replacement van after the tap on our original vehicle had once again malfunctioned. Mercifully the tap on this one works a little better. Less good is that the water tank has the capacity of one bucket, the shower/toilet cubicle floods frequently and the kettle takes 12 minutes to boil enough for two cups of tea. Oh, and unblocking a chemical waste disposal unit on a cold morning in the rain does not feel much like being on holiday. I don't know what we were thinking.

Regardless, we moved on from Kaiteriteri where we had exchanged vans to the West coast and the metropolis of Westport, or more precisely to a one-horse town just south of it called Charleston. We spent an evening in a pub in which we were the second and third visitors of the day (I'm not convinced one couldn't substitute "month" for "day" and be equally accurate), and the following day headed out to the glowworm caves armed with a wetsuit, a mining helmet complete with head lamp and a tractor tyre inner tube. We explored some 30-million year-old caves, listened to a lot of stuff about limestone which reminded me why I hated geography so much at school, and eventually rafted through underwater lakes craning our necks to the hordes of glowworms on the ceiling before emerging from the underworld and rafting back down the river and its few mini-rapids. This was a fun day, made all the better for the fact that it was just us and our guide, Howie. Just occasionally there are benefits to being here in winter.

From there we drove to Greymouth where we were greeted by an English campsite attendant telling us that the only thing to do in Greymouth is the brewery tour and tasting. We obligingly signed up and were ferried to the brewhouse only to discover that we were part of a group of 29 of which 23 were irritating gap yearers and four were irritating middle-aged couples pretending to be gap yearers. Some of the beer was nice though - I recommend Monteiths Original Ale.

The next day we drove to the glacier at Franz Josef, walked across the dusty crevasse leading up to it in something little short of a hurricane and arrived at the ropes 50 ft short of the ice with a pound of sand in each eye and a severe chafing on every exposed piece of skin. In Blenheim we had been advised not to bother with a tour of glacier for the reason that "a glacier is basically just a big block of ice". Upon inspection I can confirm this to be largely true.

We returned to our holiday park and took advantage of the hot spa facilities available onsite, although sadly I am still washing twice-daily in an attempt to remove the stench of chlorine from myself, and in the evening I entered and came not-at-all close to winning a Killer Pool tournament in the attached pub. I have two excuses: 1) the balls didn't run for me; and 2) it wasn't real pool anyway.

We started early the following morning (yesterday) and drove seven hours from Franz Josef to Queenstown, the so-called adventure capital of the world. It has been raining really rather hard and been extremely cold ever since we got here, and consequently we haven't done a great deal of adventuring, unless the afore-mentioned encounter with chemical toilet waste counts. Instead we've been to Starbucks, McDonalds and have just seen Robin Hood at the pictures (ridiculous movie) in an attempt to reconnect with the 21st century ahead of our not-too-distant return to London.

Having spent the last three months trying to persuade Tweedie to do a skydive with me (believe it or not I was keen) I had just about talked her into it, so about an hour ago we marched into the office where one books such things armed with 600 NZD (c. 300 GBP) and a vague air of foreboding only to discover that I am 11kg too heavy (at 111) to "safely" jump out of a plane. I thought the girl at the scales was rather rubbing it in when she looked at the scales, shook her head and let me know "sometimes we make exceptions if it's close, but...". I feel a combination of disappointment, humiliation and vague amusement. Tweedie feels relieved.

Over.

Kia Ora

Cyberworld, Motueka

Watched Invictus on the flight from Sydney to Christchurch and thought it was bloody excellent. Just thought I'd mention that.

Landed in Christchurch to see rain falling outside and feel an immediate and almost-forgotten chill in the air. We prolongued our stay in the warm of the airport itself by discussing campervan options with the very freindly and helpful campervan company representative there - Dennis - and agreed to pick up a van the following day after a night in the city.

Our night in Christchurch was uneventful, but memorable for the shepherds pie and real ale we had in a cosy pub in front of a roaring fire, lending an impression that has been reinforced every day since that New Zealand gets the idea of a pub better than Australia, where the pubs/bars/clubs are, as far as I could tell, universally terrible.

The next morning we collected our motorhome from the depot, and after being instructed in the intricacies of toilet waste disposal (take lid off and turn upside down) drove off in what would become our home for the next three weeks. It has made a pleasant change from three months of hostels and motels, and cooking for ourselves has been a particular pleasure. Whether the rigmarole of erecting and folding away tables and beds twice daily will remain a worthwhile price to pay for enhanced freedom and reduced expenditure remains to be seen, but for the first five days it has been a fun experience. The only drawback has been the daily visits to various repair centres in every town we've visited in an attempt to fix the faulty tap - we are hopeful that today's mechanic, our third, has done the trick.

From Christchurch we drove first to Hanmer Springs, where we bathed in natural springs ranging from 35-42 degrees Celsius which stink of sulphur but remain a thoroughly relaxing way to spend an afternoon. From there to Kaikoura, where we decided against spending $140 per head on a whale-watching expedition (Tweedie has the Planet Earth DVDs at home anyway) and opted instead for a highly scenic walk along the peninsula where we got up close but not quite personal with some seals. Disappointingly they were all asleep so did neither the parping noise nor the back-of-the-hand clapping thing - I made the rather hilarious joke that for this reason they failed to gain my seal of approval. Thanks.

After a day in Blenheim in the heart of the Marlborough wine region sampling Sauvignon Blanc at the various vineyards we ploughed on, with an obligatory and afore-mentioned stop at a campervan repair centre, to Havelock, the self-styled 'Green-Shell Mussel Capital of the World', for lunch. The green mussels were enormous. From there we headed to Nelson, just about the northernmost point of the South Island, where we spent yesterday visiting the excellent Saturday market and stocking up on presents and nik-naks, and walking up a hill to the 'Centre of New Zealand' monument, which supposedly marks the geographical centre of the country but I suspect was actually erected simply to make tourists walk up a bloody steep hill. Excellent views of the city and surrounding lakes nonetheless. Nelson might be the place I would most like to live of all the places we've seen - trendy cafes, cosy pubs and a pleasing bay with spectacular views over to the mountains which lately are covered with a magical misty cloud which gives the whole thing a very Middle Earthy feel.

I write from Motueaka, but we only arrived here this morning after a half-hour drive from Nelson and it's only a small place so I have no obvservations really. The place is mainly used as a gateway to the neighbouring Abel Tasman National Park, which we are due to explore by boat and on foot tomorrow. I will therefore save that particular piece of chatter for another time.

There are a lot of rugby pitches in New Zealand. You'd think they'd have won more World Cups.

Over.

Another airport

Kingsford Smith Airport, Sydney

The next morning we left for Brisbane, arriving at lunchtime. This was, if anything, even more futuristic-looking than Sydney, the river lined with curvaceous overpasses and underpasses, skyscrapers lit up flashily at night time and a large ferris wheel adorning the area they call the South Bank (crazy idea). There is also a man-made 'City Beach', which we viewed from afar without getting sand between our toes largely to avoid the dozens of pasty Brits ogling scantily-clad locals. 

We spent our time in Brisbane mainly exploring the galleries, museum and performance centres, and hanging out in our laid back, friendly hostel. I'm afraid I don't really have any interesting stories about Brisbane, I will only add that it is the sort of place, relaxed but with plenty happening, where I can imagine having stayed for a few months had I done this when I was 18 and had a year to fill.

Yesterday morning we caught an internal flight back to Sydney, and spent a day doing not much except going round and round on the Monorail, an overhead train that loops the city centre, and hanging out in the brashly touristic Darling Harbour area contemplating our four weeks in Australia. It has been a different kind of experience to what preceded it, partly due to its economic prosperity relative to Asia, and partly because almost half our time has been spent staying with friends. As a result I think we have had a more genuinely Australian experience than we might have had going from beach to beach in the Antipodean summer, and have seen a variety of lovely, smaller towns which we would never have gone near without having a) recommendation from locals, or b) a car. When we arrived I nauseatingly told Tweedie that seeing Sydney felt like "the fulfilment of a childhood dream". This starstruck wonder faded rapidly, but I remain immensely fond of Australia and its nationally funny, consistently sensible inhabitants.

In an hour we fly to Christchurch, it is currently 07.58. I have been up since 01.15 watching England win the World Twenty20 Cup. Hurrah.

Happy birthday to my brother. Have a great day Knobs.

Over.

A Few G'days

Peterpan Internet, Byron Bay

We spent three days more with Tom, including a trip back down to Sydney (Tweedie met someone she knew from London on Bondi Beach but he didn't remember her - very embarrassing for her) and a wine tour in the Hunter Valley. Then on to Port Macquarie, a quiet, fairly nondescript beach town whose main feature was that locals had taken to decorating the rocks that form the breakwall, some with 'Glenn heart Julie 4 eva' and variants, but some with really rather artistic designs which enlivened a walk along the beach.

Next stop was South West Rocks, a similar but prettier beach town further up the coast. It was there that, taking out my contact lenses in preparation for an ocean dip on a blustery day, the right one blew out of my hands and away into the sand. I have consulted with William Hill and they confirm that 'contact lens on a beach' ranks above 'needle in a haystack' in the unlikeliness stakes. Fortunately I had not one but two spare pairs to hand. South West Rocks is also home to Trial Bay Gaol, one of the first prisons established by the British when New South Wales was settled. This led to much hilarious banter about Australia being essentially one big prison, a fact of which locals (well, the one barman I spoke to) seemed delighted to be reminded.

We headed inland next to Armidale, a sleepy university town on the cold side of the mountains. The drive there was rather more eventful than we had bargained for, as we followed the first road, rather than the best road signposted 'Armidale'. Only later did we discover the difference. After half an hour we stopped in a town called Bellbrook, although town might be too grand a term for a post office and a general store. We popped into the latter for water and after being shown (unasked for - I don't think they get many tourists in Bellbrook) the largest collection of teaspoons on display in the world (2800 - I wondered if Alanis Morrissette had been there) were asked where we came from ("London? I think you're lost") and what we were doing in Bellbrook. When we answered "driving to Armidale" the reply came immediately: "have you got four-wheel drive?". I answered "no" with a reasonable amount of certainty (we have a Hyundai Getz called Helen - it is tiny). A pause, then a hopeful: "Ah. Well you'll probably be ok". We were, but not until we had completed 3 hours up and down a seemingly endless mountain range conducted exclusively on winding gravel tracks and muddy dirt roads, at one point meeting a lorry coming the other way down a single carriageway and having to reverse 200m downhill and round numerous unsealed corners with a 100 ft drop on the wrong side.

After this the sleepiness of Armidale came as something of a relief. The town is famous for its autumnal brownness (apparently this is rare in Australia) and when asking at the Tourist Information office what we should do with our afternoon we received the beaming yet underwhelming reply : "Just look at the leaves all afternoon". Once we had recovered from the shock of dead leaves in autumn we discovered a 'Heritage Walking Tour of Armidale' and soon after discovered that 'Heritage' in Australia means anything, largely post offices and police stations, older than 1900. I've lived in older buildings.

The next day we planned to drive the Waterfall Way, a scenic 168km of decent road between Armidale and Coff's Harbour lined with National Parks, spectacular scenery and a few dozen waterfalls. Sadly we woke to find rain falling, so drove 130 of these kilometres to Bellingen, a smallish arty town with an award-winning hostel in which we fortunately bagged the best room, with a balcony overlooking the river and acres of rolling hills. We meandered around the town's myriad craft shops and waited for the rain to end, which it unobligingly did only once dark had descended. The next day happily brought sunshine so we retraced our steps, stopping at Dorrigo National Park to see the rainforest, at Woolomombi and Ebor to stare at waterfalls, and at Cathedral Rocks to ponder some precariously-balanced rocks, which was better than it might sound.

We returned to Bellingen for another cheese and wine evening on our balcony, and left the next morning. From here we drove to Yamba (stopping at Coff's Harbour for an obligatory photo in front of the Big Banana) to stay for a few days with our friends Paul and Gillian whom we had met in Vietnam. Upon arrival we went immediately to a campsite and found a tent and a pile of firewood waiting for us. We built a fire, barbequed some burgers and had a thoroughly excellent evening catching up on travel stories. After a problematic night's sleep involving Tweedie, half a box of red wine and a vomit-strewn tent interior we spent the next day doing rugged Australian things. Tweedie and I both caught our first fish - a bream apiece - and we returned to the campsite for another, similarly simple campfire evening.

On Sunday we woke early to drive to their friends Ross and Helen's house on the river, and went out on their boat for a breakfast-time fishing trip. We were sadly unable to repeat the feats of the previous day but fortunately Helen had packed bacon and eggs which were barbequed on the bow-end (I got it wrong at the time). After a great trip round the bay we returned to their amazingly zoological home and listened to their stories from a lifetime of being interested in the world. More fishing in the afternoon - Tweedie has decided it will be her new hobby just so she has something to talk about at parties - and I caught another fish, this time a whiting. I don't care how small both fish were, it was very exciting.

We left the following day, after possibly final (although I really hope otherwise) goodbyes and arrived here in Byron Bay yesterday afternoon. This is the ultimate Australian beach party town - there is hardly a shop not designed for tourists - but it remains chilled enough to be enjoyable. A quiet evening yesterday, and a walk up to Cape Byron lighthouse this afternoon. The sun disappeared permanently behind a hitherto nonexistent cloud the second we attempted to begin our afternoon lounging on the beach, hence my presence in this internet cafe.

That just about brings us up to date. Apologies for the 'and then we did this and then we did that' feel of this post, but I had some ground to make up.

Could someone please call me when we have a prime minister? Cheers.

Over.